The Tide
by S.M.Hoffman
Summary: After forcing the car into a crash, Jack Napier must learn to cope with the aftermath of his actions. His life is soon consumed by anger, hate, guilt, and growing madness. In time, Jack will learn exactly what a scar can drive a person to become.
1. No Love

**Disclaimer- **I do not own Batman or any character associated to Batman (the movies and comics). DC Comics and Bob Kane own all rights to our favorite clown and everyone involved in the Batman mainstream. The only thing I own is the plot and the characters that will surface later on in the story.**

* * *

**

**The Tide**

**No Love**

"_You learned the hard way to shut your mouth and smile.  
If these walls could talk, they would have so much to say.  
Cause every time you fight, the scars are gonna heal  
but there never gonna go away.  
There's only hate, there's only tears.  
There's only pain, there is no love here.  
Oh so what will you do?  
There's only lies, there's only fears.  
There's only pain, there is no love here.  
Oh no, so what will you do?"_

-_No Love_ by Simple Plan

The black thread of his stitches made his skin seem redder than it really was, the area still swollen not only from the stitches but from the wound itself. Jack combed back his hair, spraying some of his cologne as he tucked in the silk material of his purple dress shirt. He hated going to his father's dinner parties for work, they were looked on as the perfect family and it tugged at Jack's heart.

"Don't you look spiffy?" Jeannie asked, straightening the dress their mother had given her for these occasions.

"Please," Jack scoffed as he shoved his hands into the pockets of his black slacks as he leaned against the counter's edge. "I can never compare with my baby sister."

He smiled as her eye roll, there was never a better way of entertaining himself than embarrassing Jeannie. The two siblings stayed in their bathroom for another few minutes before their mother called them down, Jack taking his time walking down the stairs. Once the sixteen year old entered the kitchen, only his father was left in the house.

"What the hell are you wearing?" his voice was harsh as he eyed his son.

"Does it matter?" Jack asked, adjusting his sleeve. "I like this shirt."

"Do you want everyone to think you're a faggot? Get your ass back upstairs and change your shirt,"

"No! Who the hell gave you permission to tell me what to wear?" Jack challenged, drawing himself to his full height as his father walked up to him.

"What did you say to me, boy?" he growled.

"I said I'm not changing. Just because I look good in purple doesn't make me gay, Dad."

There was a blinding pain in his left ear and his father was soon digging his fingers into Jack's flesh, the grip on his jaw crushing. The teenager's face was turned so his stitched cheek was facing his father.

"Do you want a matching scar, Junior? Because I won't hesitate to make that God damn smile of yours permanent. Understand me?"

"Yes," Jack spat out, rubbing his jaw as his father pushed him into the kitchen counter. "Sir."

"That's better," his father smoother out his shirt before staring at his son. "You better smile to everyone and be the polite little bastard you aren't,"

Jack scowled as his father pushed him out the door and into the car. The sixteen noticed his sister look at his face, her look telling him there was a bruise forming already. His dark eyes looked out the car window as his father backed out of the driveway, the atmosphere in the car one of fear.

"We are gonna be the fucking happy family everyone thinks we are, am I understood?"

Everyone but Jack answered, the blonde sixteen year old ignoring his father when he heard his name called. When he continued to ignore the older man, the squealing of tires filled his ears as he was lashed forward, the seatbelt digging into his neck. Jack looked at Jeannie, his fists tightening when he saw the red mark on her neck and he knew there was a matching one on his mother. He opened his mouth to say something, but the pleading look in his fourteen year old sister's eyes made him close his mouth.

"Do you want to say something, Jack?" his father sneered before driving again.

"No, sir." He forced a smile and went back to looking out the window.

00000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000

They were fighting again, his father looking from the road to his mother. It wasn't uncommon for Jack Sr. and Sara Napier to fight in front of their children, but the Napier children didn't like their father driving during the fight.

"I'm scared, Jack." His sister whispered.

"It's okay, Jeannie." He gave her a smile.

"Promise?"

Jack opened his mouth to answer, but the sound of flesh smacking flesh cut him off, a loud thud following the hit. The teenagers turned their attention to their parents, a speck of blood on their father's ring from where he hit their mother. Jack felt his heart skip a beat as his namesake wrapped his fingers around his mother's neck, the headlights of oncoming traffic lighting up the freeway as they drove by.

"What did I tell you?" his father yelled, his voice covering up his wife's choking sounds. "Don't you ever raise your voice to me again, you little slut!"

Jack continued to watch his parents fight, his mind reeling to the moment he knew things had fallen apart for his family.

_They had never fought before, not even when Jack wasn't around. The ten year sat at the kitchen table and watched his parents yell at each other, his eight year old sister taking a nap in her room. He didn't know what they were yelling about, but it didn't matter; he knew what their yelling meant. His dark eyes grew wider with every use of a bad word he heard, his mother's green eyes shinning with tears as his father stood mere inches from her face._

_Jack's hand gripped the crayon he was holding, his grip growin tighter with every heated second that passed. What amazed him the most was how they didn't notice that he was only a few feet away from them, watching the whole thing. His jaw tightened and his crayon snapped in half when his father's fist connected with his mother's jaw, her body crumpling to the ground._

_The ten year old bolted out of the kitchen and to his room, listening to raising cries and yells from his parents. The house went silence after a few minutes, the sounds of his mother's sobs following the slamming of the front door. Jack slowly crept out of his room, only to stop to check on Jeannie. The blonde eight year old was still sleeping in her bed, her worn stuffed dog clutched to her chest as she slept. The boy found a small second to stare in awe at his sister, he always knew she could sleep through a nuclear war. He shook his head and walked back to the kitchen, his gaze landing on his mother's figure._

_"Mom?" he whispered, edging closer to her._

_She looked up, wiping at the silent tears before giving him a strained smile._

_"Hey, JJ." She choked out, ruffling his hair when he sat next to her._

_"Are you okay?" his voice was small, but that didn't take away from the seriousness of his question._

_"Of course I am, Sweetheart." Jack could tell she was lying, but he wasn't going to say anything. "Why would you ask that?"_

_"Because Dad hit you."_

_"It's nothing to worry about, Jack. Your father was just...having a rough day today at work and..."_

_"I won't let him hurt you again, Mom." The ten year old cut her off, his dark eyes looking right into her green ones. "And if he tries to hurt Jeannie too...I'll hurt him worse."_

_"What makes you think he's going to hurt us, JJ?"_

_"Grandpa told me you don't hurt the people you love and you stand up for what you think is right," Jack repeated his grandfather's words. "Dad hitting you isn't right, Mom. And I'm gonna protect you and Jeannie from him, because if he hit you who says he won't hit her too?"_

_His mother pulled him towards her, holding him close as she sobbed into his shoulder. Jack wrapped his arms around her, knowing his mother wouldn't leave his father like she should._

_"I promise Mom," his whispered. "I'll do whatever it takes to keep him from hurting you and Jeannie. Does Dad still love you?"_

_Jack pulled back and looked at his mother, her silence saying more than she could ever voice._

_"Does he still love me and Jeannie?"_

_His dark eyes looked at the tile when he was met with the same answer, his head falling on to his mother's shoulder. Jack closed his eyes as tears filled them, fear and panic flooding his body._

_He knew he had signed himself up for a losing battle._

A small sob brought Jack out of his memory, his dark eyes looking at Jeannie as her hand covered her mouth. There was fear shinning in her green eyes, trying her hardest to not let their father hear her sobs. The sixteen year old unbuckled his seat belt, moving into the middle of the back seat, his eyes narrowed in determination.

"What are you going to do, you little shit?" his father's eyes stared at him through the rear view mirror as his choke hold ended. "Did you forget about the last time you stood up to me?"

Jack's fingers grazed over his right cheek, the black thread of the stitches bringing back the event from three weeks ago. His mind flashed to the memory, the pain he felt as his father sawed through his skin returning to him. The teenager pushed the memory back as he lunged to the front seat, his hands gripping the steering wheel and turning sharply to the right. His father tried to swerve back on to the road, but it was too late.

Jack watched the exit barrier smash into the car's hood in slow motion, no sound reaching his ears as his heart pounded against his rib cage. Jeannie's screams cut through to his hearing as he felt his body hurl through the windshield, the stinging of glass cutting into his exposed flesh as his yell tore open his stitches before his head smacked on the edge of the concrete barrier. He heard the sound of metal impacting metal before his world went black.

* * *

**A/N- **You would think I would learn to not post fifty million stories while I'm still working on some...but I don't. Anyways, I thought I would take a stab at writing TDK's Joker. But I was afaird that I would botch him up, so I thought it would be best if I wrote an orgin story for everyone's favorite mass murdering clown. And just people know, I have nothing against homosexuals...I thought you might get the picture of how disgusting and foul Jack's father is if I included that scene. I'm sorry if I offended anyone with that sentence, that was not my intentions.

But let me know if this worth continuing through a review, or if you have suggestions tell me cos I love knowing what you guys would like to see. And I know this seems slow right now, but I wanna establish Jack's home life and so on. And yes, I know I only mentioned one scar, that's because he only has the one right now. But don't worry, by the end of the story he'll have both of his wonderful scars that makes Mistah J.

Next Chapter- The fate of Jack's parents and his sister will be revealed, but is it something Jack wants? Jack must learn to cope with the consequences of his actions and deal with his life in his own special way.

S.


	2. Disturbia

**Disclaimer-**I do not own Batman or anything related to The Dark Knight.**

* * *

**

**Disturbia**

"_No more gas, in the rig, can't even get it started.  
Nothing heard, nothing said, can't even speak about it.  
On my life, on my head, don't wanna think about it.  
Feels like I'm going insane, yeah.  
It's a thief in the night to come and grab you.  
It can creep up inside you and consume you.  
A disease of the mind, it can control you.  
It's too close for comfort."_

-_Disturbia _by Rihanna

Dark eyes looked around the hospital room, the right side of his face throbbing. The sixteen year old was having trouble remembering how he had ended up in the hospital, his blonde hair sticking up on end from sleep. His eyes landed on the figure of a fourteen year old across the room, her arm in a sling and a few cuts on her face. A groan left his lips as he sat up, alerting the blonde girl that he was awake.

"Jack!" she yelled, running over to the chair next to the bed. "Grandma just left to have a smoke,"

"Wh...where's Mom...and Da..." it was difficult to talk, the stitches pulling at his sensitive skin.

"They didn't make it,"

"You guys got hit." he muttered, his eyes trained on his sister's broken arm.

"Yeah," she nodded. "The car skidded sideways after hitting the barrier and..."

Jeannie was cut off as the door opened to reveal their grandmother and the doctor who was treating Jack. The doctor talked to both him and his grandmother as he ran some basic test on the sixteen year old, the only thing Jack heard was concussion and a small infection in the gash on his forearm.

"He'll need to stay here for a few more days," the doctor concluded, but Jack didn't care how long he had to stay; hospital visits were something he had become accustomed to over the years.

The rest of the day passed in a blur to the teenager, but he could care less. The only thing that ran through his mind was the fact that his mother was dead, the only person he cared about besides Jeannie was no longer around.

And it was all his fault.

0000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000

It had been a few weeks since the accident, and Jack found himself spending as much time as he could in his room at his grandmother's house. Jeannie was at the mall with her friends, picking up her life where it had left off and Jack considered her lucky for that reason. His dark eyes stared at the black threading that stretched from the right corner of his mouth to the edge of his cheekbone, the bumpiness of the skin rough under his finger tips.

"It's not going away, JJ." His grandmother's voice sounded from the door.

"I know." He muttered, his eyes watching her sit on his bed through the mirror. "Jeannie told you, didn't she?"

"She did," his mother had looked so much like his grandmother that Jack found it kind of scary. "It takes courage to stand up to your father every day for all those years, Jack."

"A lot of good it did me though," he scoffed, turning around to face her. "Dad still beat us. Why would he do that to us, Grandma? How can you hurt the people you love so easily like that?"

"I don't know," the elderly woman shook her head as she looked at her grandson, pain flashing in his eyes for a brief second.

"It's my fault," his voice was barely above a whisper. "He hit Mom and choked her, right in front of us. I was just so sick and tired of him treating her and Jeannie like that, and getting away with it on top of it all! I didn't think, I just grabbed the wheel and drove the car into that barrier..."

There were tears silently falling from his eyes as he looked at his grandmother, his shoulders shaking with the oncoming sobs.

"Mom's dead and Jeannie broke her arm because of me," he cried as soon as his grandmother pulled him to her, holding him tight. "I tried to protect them and I hurt them worse than Dad ever did. It's my fault Mom's dead..."

"No it's not, JJ." His grandmother's voice was gentle as she rubbed his back in an attempt to calm him. "You couldn't have known."

"I'm no better than that son of bitch." He choked out, burying his head into her shoulder.

"Jack Barrow Napier," he found himself held at arm's length from his grandmother. "Don't you ever say that again, do you understand me? You are nothing like your father. How many times did you end up in the hospital protecting Jeannie and you mother from him?"

Jack looked into his grandmother's eyes, begging her to see it his way. After a moment of silence it became clear to the older woman that there was no convincing her grandson he was wrong, so she gave him a hug and left the room. The sixteen year just stared at the green sheets of his bed, images of the crash filling his mind.

Jack looked up at the sound of a small cough, Jeannie standing in front of him. Her cuts had healed nicely on her face, the only noticeable one was above her left eyebrow, and her purple cast was already filled with signatures from her friends. The siblings just looked at each other for a few minutes before Jeannie threw her good arm around her brother's neck, placing a kiss on his scarred cheek.

"Thank you, Jack." She whispered into his ear.

"For what?" he asked, causing the fourteen year old to pull back from him.

"For always being there for me. For protecting me from Dad, and for protecting Mom." Jeannie was confused by his behavior, her brother never reacted that way when she thanked him.

"Don't thank me," he replied, his dark eyes seeming to grow darker. "I don't deserve it. If I really was protecting you and Mom, Dad would have stopped hitting you the first time. I was never protecting you two, I was just adding another punching bag to his fucking collection! I'm not a hero, so stop acting like I am Jeannie."

"Jack..." she started, only to stop at the look in his eyes.

"What? Are you gonna say I am hero? If I was a hero, Jeannie, Mom would still be here and you wouldn't have broken your arm." He pointed out, sitting on the edge of his bed.

Jack looked up as Jeannie placed her hand on his shoulder, giving him a smile. He knew she wanted to see his smile, but he couldn't force himself to give it to her. The fourteen year old sat next to him and sighed, her heading resting on his shoulder.

"I wish I knew why he hit us," she whispered.

"I wish I knew why he stopped loving us." Jack wrapped his arm around Jeannie's shoulder and sighed. "Maybe things would've been different,"

The sixteen looked at his sister when he heard her soft sobs, his arms holding her close to him. He rested his chin on top of her head and sighed, Jeannie's small arm wrapping around him.

"It's gonna be okay, Jeannie." He whispered. "I promise."

0000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000

Jack stared at the headstone, guilt pulling at him at the sight of his mother's name. It was getting to the point where Jack envied Jeannie for her ability to live a normal life, the smile he tried to keep on her face in the past years now coming to her with ease now. He ran a hand through his hair, his eyes drifting o his father's tombstone. A smile tugged at his lips but he walked away, disgusted with himself for thinking of his father.

He walked back to his grandmother's house, his head bowed down with the collar of his jacket turned up. He couldn't stand the looks his stitches got him; from pity to disgust, he hated all the looks he got. Jack was glad school didn't start up again for another three weeks, which gave him plenty of time to get the stitches out. The sixteen year old knew the worry his grandmother and sister felt for him, he had cut out all of his friends from his life and retreated into himself. He hadn't talked about the crash or anything else since his breakdown, it wasn't healthy but it was his way of dealing with everything.

"Hey Jack," he looked up as soon as he walked into the house, Jeannie smiling at him. "Me and Grandma are going to the movies. Do you want to come with us?"

"Have fun." He replied before walking to his room, laying on his bed as he began to read the book on his nightstand.

The words of Stephen King were etched into his mind, the left corner of his mouth curled up in a smirk. Jack didn't feel bad about turning down Jeannie's offer; if anything he did them a favor. Had he gone with them, people would have just stared and whispered about him the whole time. He ran his hand through his hair, making it stick up even more. As he read the book, the sixteen year old gently touched his stitched up cheek and marveled at the loss of feeling.

Dark eyes looked up at the mirror across from the bed, his attention going straight to the damaged skin. Even though the black thread would be gone, there would be a nice scar running the length of the slice. Jack went back to reading, and closed his eyes at the mental image his mind produced.

"School's gonna be hell," he sighed.

0000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000

_"They're all the same," the voice came up behind him, Jack turning around to see a white painted face. "They know what's going on around them, but they refuse to see how we really act."_

_Jack licked his dried lips, the grin on the stranger's face made eerie by the red lipstick that traced it. The sixteen year old backed up until he hit the wall, the smiling face of the clown looming over him. The fear washed over the teenager as he watched the clown walk closer to him, he had always hated clowns and there was something about this one's grin that furthered his fear._

_"Look familiar, kid?" the voice was cheerful, but the eyes told a darker story._

_It was then that Jack noticed the scarred cheeks, his own hand flying up to his right cheek. His heart beat against his rib cage, the sound of hysterical laughter filling his ears. The laugh was eerie and haunting, mocking the dim atmosphere of the situation. When all became silent again, the sixteen year old didn't know if the silence or the laughter disturbed him more._

_"You should smile more, Jack." In a second, the clown was gripping Jack's chin and forcing his left cheek to face him._

_The clown's foul breath invaded his nostrils, Jack closing his eyes at the decaying teeth in front of him. There was another bout of laughter as a clammy hand traced his left cheek, forming something similar to the wound on his opposite cheek. The teenager winced at the sound of an opening switchblade, his mind reeling to the night he received his "smirk"._

_"Why so serious?" dark chuckles followed the question as the feeling of cool metal forced its way to the left corner of his mouth, slowly slicing the skin. "Let's bring out that award winning grin."_

_A scream ripped through Jack's throat as the blade was brought swiftly through his cheek, blood pouring down his face. Giggles filled the dim room as the blonde fell to the floor, his own blood clinging to his body. Dark eyes looked up at the twisted grin of the clown, and Jack soon found himself giggling just as insanely as his attacker._

Jack sat up in bed, his fingers flying to the left side of his face. He felt nothing but flawless skin and sweat, his nightmare's images fading fast. A shaky breath left his chapped lips as he built enough courage to get out of his bed, the artificial breeze created by his fan cooling his sweat drenched skin. His cautious steps led him to the bathroom down the hall, his finger switching the light on and swiftly closing the door.

"Get a grip, Jack." He whispered to himself as he stared at his reflection, his skin looking paler than usual. "You've had plenty of nightmares before and you've never acted like this,"

Dark eyes stared into dark eyes, the sixteen calming his breathing as he studied his reflection. His mind tried to figure out why the dream had terrified him, but nothing came to him. Jack closed his eyes as his heart beat slowed to a more acceptable rhythm, hands gripping the sink's edge as he opened his eyes to see the marble of the sink.

"It was just another dream," the words were breathed out while he brought his gaze back to the mirror. "It was just a dream."

'_Was it?_' the breathy voice sounded in his ear and Jack flung back into the wall, his eyes glued to the glass.

"This isn't real, Jack. It's just a lasting..."

'_And what if it isn't, kid?_' the voice was coming from the mirror, the reflection no longer his face but the face of that scarred clown.

Once the laughter started, the teenager let out a bestial yell as his fists flew into the glass. He kept pounding the mirror until it cracked, and even then he beat his fists harder against it. Jack saw the pieces of the mirror chip off and saw the red smears on the glass, but he kept up his beating. Every time his skin made contact with the broken mirror, a yell left his mouth until his throat was raw.

"Jack!" Jeannie forced herself between her brother and the sink, her good arm pushing him back when he struggled forward.

"Move, Jeannie!" Jack growled as he shoved the fourteen year old to the side, his eyes narrowed at the shattered image of the clown. "I'm gonna kill that fucker and make him stop laughing!"

The soft thud made Jack turn to look at his sister, her broken arm held close to her body as her green eyes widened in fear. Realization dawned on him as he stared at her, his muscles relaxing and the sharp pain in his fists finally hit him when he looked at the blood. The sixteen year old shook his head, the word 'sorry' leaving his mouth before he rushed out of the bathroom and passed his grandmother.

His bedroom door slammed shut and he leaned against it, his whole body shaking from what he had done. The pain in his hands was the last thing on his mind as he slid down the door, the carpet burning the cuts.

"I hit her," Jack whispered, his dark eyes stared at the opposite wall as he brought his had back into the door a number of times.

The teenager ignored the call of his name, his eyes never leaving the wall as his ear rang with the echo of that laughter. For the rest of the night, Jack couldn't bring himself to sleep.

* * *

**A/N-**Alright, another chapter! So I'm on Spring Break and next week I'll be leaving for New York...so that means lots of time to write more chapters for this story. I know the last chapter was very exciting or edgey, so I hope this chapter makes up for what the first one lacked. Anyways, thanks to the reviewer for the first chapter, your review meant a lot and let me know that I have at least one person who wants this story to be followed through to end. And for those of you have read it/favored it...thanks to you also.

Let me know what you'd like to see/suggestions for future chapters. Thanks.

S.


	3. You're Gonna Go Far, Kid

**A/N-** Wow….it feels good to be updating again. Sorry for the MIA thing I had going on for a while, my computer had a virus and all this other stuff happened…but that doesn't matter cos it's finally fixed and I'm updating! Yay!

* * *

**You're Gonna Go Far, Kid**

"_And turning all against the one  
Is an art that's hard to teach.  
Another clever word  
Sets off an unsuspecting herd…_

_When you walk away,  
Nothing more to say,  
See the lightning in your eyes.  
See 'em running for their lives…"_

_-You're Gonna Go Far, Kid _by The OffSpring

They had left Jack in his room at his request, and over the next three days he only came out when he had to. And even then he avoided Jeannie in an attempt to forget he had hurt her, something he knew she would never understand. The sixteen year old had taken care of his hands the morning after his episode, and he had kept the carpet stained with his blood as a reminder.

So when his grandmother had taken Jeannie to the _Barnes and Noble _on 1960, he had left the comfort of his room and went to the kitchen. His gaze fell on the lone steak knife on the counter, his feet taking him over to it and his hand grabbing it on its own accord.

_"You think this is funny?" his father shouted, Jack's head slamming on to the counter top as he continued to laugh._

_"Please sir," he giggled. "May I have another?"_

_That just made his father angrier, his hand slamming his son's head into the marble surface once more before holding in place. Jack felt the familiar warmth of blood and he just smirked up at his father, a few snickers escaping him._

_"Since you find me so God damn amusing," the stench of scotch filled Jack's nostrils as his father reached out of his vision, his hand reappearing with a steak knife and Jack went silent. "I'll just have to remind you of who I am."_

_The blade was forced to the right side of his mouth, the metal soon heating up from his breath. It was his father who began laughing at the fear in his son's eyes._

_"What's the matter, Jack?" pressure was applied and the teenager tasted blood as the knife broke the skin. "Where's that smart ass laugh of yours now? C'mon, boy. Laugh!"_

_A yell slowly climbed up Jack's throat as his father began to cut into his cheek, blood flowing more freely. He could feel his cheek being sliced apart, skin and muscle tearing in two as the knife sawed its way through his flesh. Jack held on to the counter's edge, his knuckles turning white._

_"Lighten up, Jack." His father chuckled over the sixteen year old's yelling, the cutting finally coming to a stop. "You need to laugh more and not be so serious!"_

_Jack fell to his knees once his father let his head go, a knee meeting his face. Blood stained his clothes as it poured from his cheek, the red liquid falling from his mouth as he coughed from the impact of a steel toed boot to his chest. Fingers dug into the damaged flesh as his father knelt in front of him, forcing him to look at his drunken expression._

_"You wanna be a joker, boy?" he growled, his grip tightening. "Laugh at me one more time and I'll finish that fucking smile of yours."_

_Jack was thrown to the floor, more blood being coughed and spit up. He tried to focus on his father, but the rapid blood loss was making it difficult to do so. The sound of running feet followed the slamming of a door and a towel was soon being held to his face._

_"Jeannie, call 911!" his mother ordered. "Jack...JJ, tell me what happened."_

_"I...I fell..." that was always his answer._

"Shit!" Jack yelled, throwing the knife into the sink before holding his thumb. "Stupid knife."

He sucked the blood off his thumb as he grabbed a bottle of water before going back upstairs. He never wanted to see another knife again, if he could help it.

000000000000000000000000000000000000000000

The first thing he noticed was the gift on his nightstand, the morning sun bringing it to his attention. A folded piece of paper, his name scrawled on it, rested on top of a worn deck of cards and a new book. Jack grabbed the note and unfolded it, chuckling at his grandmother's handwriting.

'_Jack,_

_I'm having Grandma write this, for obvious reasons. I know you're beating yourself up over the other night, and you need to stop. I'm okay, so don't worry about it. I was more afraid _for _you then I was _of _you, honest. Now that I got that out of the way..._

_Recognize the cards? Well you should. I found them in your back pocket of the slacks you were wearing that night. You always told me they were lucky. Maybe I should get a lucky charm too, huh?_

_The book's just something I thought you would enjoy. I read some of it, and it just screamed you. Also, I think it's about time we went back to the Aerodrome and hit the ice again...just in case the coach lets you back on the team this season, you won't be rusty._

_Jeannie_'

Jack shook his head as he grabbed the card deck, a small smile on his lips. It was the book that caught his attention next, the words _Fight Club_ standing out on the red cover. He flipped through the pages lazily before putting it down, not in the mood to read. The sixteen year old was more amazed by his sister remembering why the old deck meant so much to him, it had been years since he had explained the importance of the beat up card deck.

"If these were really lucky," he muttered as he took the cards out of the pack, looking through them. "Then Dad would've been the only one who died in the crash."

His fingers passed over the fading numbers and designs on the cards, the edges torn and worn down as a sign of the passing years. Dark eyes stared at the joker card, his actions stopping as he looked at the card. The water damage on the card brought a small smile to his face, the rest of the cards forgotten.

_"Why do you only have one joker in this?" Jeannie looked up at her brother, their legs dangling over the edge of the small bridge._

_"Tanner has the other one," Jack answered as he looked down at the small pond. "At least, he should have it. Wouldn't surprise me if he lost it in the locker room though."_

_The siblings had decided to spend their Saturday at Meyer Park as a way of escaping from reality for a few hours. Lucky for them, all they had to do was hop the fence and they were at the very edge of the park. The thirteen year old watched as his sister examined the joker card, her green eyes tracing the outline of the clown._

_"I don't know why I'm looking at this," Jeannie sighed as she separated that particular card from the others._

_"Why?"_

_"Clowns give me the creeps," she shuttered._

_Jack let out a snicker as he pushed back his hair, his eyes watching as the card fell from his sister's slack grip. Both of the children sat and watched the card fall into the murky pond. It took a moment for Jack to react to what had just happened before he jumped on top of the wooden rail, landing in the waist deep water. In a matter of minutes, the thirteen year old was sitting on the sloping ground leading to the water as he grinned at Jeannie who just stared at him._

_"You are so dead when we get home," she laughed, screaming as Jack splashed some water on her. "Jerk!"_

_"I know, but what are you gonna do about it?" Jack laughed as he got to his feet while Jeannie got to hers._

_The rest of the afternoon was spent between chasing each other around the park and attempting to push the other into a pond, the deck of cards somehow managing to stay dry as they rested inside of Jack's soaking pocket._

Jack had once again separated the joker from the rest of the deck, snickering at the fact that he never got the matching card back from who used his best friend. Not that he minded, he liked the idea of only having one joker. It made his deck that much more different. The sixteen year old continued staring at the aging card, even when the faded clown began to go out of focus.

He blinked once his eyes became too dry and let out a small yelp, the clown reflecting the one he had seen in the bathroom mirror. Despite his efforts, Jack couldn't look away from the card. There was just something about his imaginary clown, something that called to him and he was answering it.

And that scared him more than anything.

000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000

_Emotions were running deep as they walked off the ice, Jack the last to enter the locker room. All of their training and hours spent preparing for this game was for nothing. The team blamed him, saying he shouldn't have been allowed to play the game due to the "mental state" he was in since receiving the cut on his cheek._

_"This is bullshit!" Tanner yelled, his blue eyes locked on Jack. "We wouldn't have lost if Coach didn't play you."_

_Jack looked at his friend as soon as he got his skates off, an eyebrow raised. It was then that he noticed the rest of the team staring at him with the same degree of hatred on their faces. Sometimes he wondered why he even bothered going back to school. The sixteen year old turned his back on the glaring team as he moved his letter jacket out of the way so there was room to put his gear. He tried his best to ignore them as he shrugged out of his shoulder past, his hands moving to snap off the suspenders just as a hand gripped his shoulder and spun him around._

_"Is that all you're gonna do, Freak?" Tanner glared down at him, reminding Jack of how much smaller he was compared to the rest of the team. "The only reason Coach played you is because he feels sorry for you."_

_"Get over yourself, Tanner." Jack growled, shoving the hand off of him. "It's not my fault you suck ass as defender."_

_He turned back around to put the dropped shoulder pads into his locker, his body making contact with the metal locker a second after a pair of hands shoved him into it._

_"Wanna know why his old man cut him up?" Jack's fist tightened around a skate he had grabbed from inside his locker, teeth grinding against each other. "It's because Jack's mom is a whore! The old man found out Jack wasn't his, so he took it out on him. Isn't that right, Jack? Daddy didn't like the fact that lil' Jacky is bastard son of some..."_

_The side of the skate slapped Tanner in the jaw as Jack spun around, the sixteen year old tackling his friend to the ground before Tanner could regain his balance. Jack landed a few good punches before Tanner got the sense to fight back. The rest of the team crowded around the two, making bets on who would win. All the anger and hate that Jack had bottled up had reached it's breaking point with Tanner's stupid made up story and when punching wasn't enough, Jack's fingers gripped the skate again as he brought the blade of the skate down on Tanner's shoulder over and over again._

_"Someone get him off of Tanner!" was the only thing that was heard over the newly formed panic and terror that had taken over the locker room._

_Blood was now seeping through the white undershirt Tanner was wearing, Jack's hands and skate coming back with more crimson liquid after every blow. The sixteen year was grinning ear from ear as he took out everything he had kept inside out on Tanner, laughing by the time he was pulled off the bleeding defender._

_"You're a freak!" Tanner gripped his bleeding shoulder, his eyes glaring at a hysterically laughing Jack. "You need serious fuckin' help!"_

_It was only after he was making his way home that the news of being kicked off the team hit him hard. But he couldn't bring himself to regret what he had done._


	4. The Tide

**A/N- **Wow, it's been a while since I updated this story. And what's even better, is that this is the last chapter so it takes off one story that I'm working on. Now don't get me wrong, I loved writing this...but one less story to concentrate on is a good thing to. Tell me what you think of this chapter/story and look out for the sequel 'The Boy That Destroyed the World' within the week. And let me know if you catch the appearances by two characters before they joine dthe Rogues Gallery

A big thanks to everyone who read, reviewed, and favored/alerted this story. You guys gave me a reason to not give up on this story.

* * *

**The Tide**

"_Heaven's not a place that you go when you die  
It's that moment in life when you actually feel alive  
So live for the moment  
And take this advice, live by every word  
Love is just a hoax so forget everything that you have heard..._

_...She didn't even notice, or pay much attention  
As the tide came in and swept her three into the ocean..."_

_-The Tide _by Spill Canvas

"_You know what you have to do, Jack_." The breathy voice was next to him, but Jack kept his eyes trained on his reflection. "_It was always gonna end up like this..._"

Jack's fingers gripped the edge of the counter, the bathroom door locked as his grandmother and Jeannie slept. He had had another dream again and woke up to hear that stupid laughing clown in his room. So the teenager had run to the bathroom in an attempt to escape the clown, but it obviously didn't work.

"_Even if you hadn't done anything, your father would have killed her...and Jeannie._" A childish giggle filled the empty bathroom. "_You were meant to do this, Kid. I mean, uh...why else would people call you a freak? Your father knew...that's why he um..."_

Jack was now looking to the left of him, the clown motioning to his left cheek. This had been going on for a month now and Jack was certain his grandmother knew something was bothering her grandson, but he had shut everyone out of his life to avoid the sort of questions he knew his grandmother wanted to ask.

"What do you mean he knew?" the words didn't come out as a growl like he had intended.

"_He knew there was a reason you were so serious...he knew what made you. Smile. More._" The words shouldn't have made sense, but they did. "_You see, your father...he uh, he knew that hurting people would um..."_

The sentence ended with another one of those bone chilling laughs, Jack's eyes narrowing as he watched the clown double over in laughter.

"_Why else would hurting your so called 'friends' make you happy? Why else do try so hard to follow the rules?_"

"Because..." Jack started, cut off by a snicker.

"_Try all you want, Jackie Boy...you're different. You see the things everyone else refuses to see, what they uh, need to see. Your father knew you laughed at the pathetic citizens following their rules...he knew what you are._" The teenager found himself listening carefully to that mockingly cheerful voice, his head nodding in agreement with what the clown was saying. "_You have to show...them the truth._"

"How?" Jack whispered, his eyes looking at that jagged smile.

"_You uh, know how, Kid._"

As he stood there, images of everything he had ever wanted to do flashed through his mind as a small giggle left his lips. Those images were soon replaced with those of his father and everything that man had done to him.

_"What's the matter, Junior?" his father's voice broke through the daze Jack had found himself in as soon as his head hit the wall. "Why the sudden change? Just a few moments ago I was the funniest God damn person you saw!"_

_Jack just glared at the older man in front of him, his fingers curling into fists. The fifteen year old felt his blood pounding in his ears as he stood there, his father slowly making his way over to him._

_"Why so serious?" the words were growled out as a hand wrapped around his small throat, Jack's hands scrambling to keep his father from choking him. "You used to smile all the time, JJ. Your mom misses your smile...you need to smile more, don't wanna make your mom upset do you?"_

_"You have that taken care of, don't you?" Jack choked out, a smirk coming to his face._

_"You little shit!" a fist landed on the side of his jaw, quickly followed by a series of blows to his face._

_The only thing that Jack could think of doing was laugh, laugh and spit blood in his father's face. As the beating went on, Jack's laughter died until he could barely breathe._

_"You're still being serious, boy." the fifteen year old felt the cold stinging of his father's switchblade pressed against his cheek. "Maybe I should teach how to smile freely...or perhaps another time."_

_Jack fell to the floor, his hand clutching his bleeding nose. Darks eyes looked up at the sneering face of his father as a scowl dried on to his bloody lips. There was nothing he would love more than to..._

Jack was brought out of his memory at the glint of the steak knife he had grabbed; his feet had taken him to the kitchen during his memory. He kept hearing that mocking laughter, his own soft giggles joining them. For the briefest of moments, time seemed to stand still as Jack considered what had crossed his mind.

"_C'mon, Jack..._" the horrid breath in front of his face let the sixteen year old know the clown was sitting on the counter before him, his dark eyes looking up to meet the endless pits where the clown's eyes should have been. "_Do it...complete that uh, gorgeous smile._"

Jack continued to stare at the twisted grin on the white painted face, his fingers gripping the knife's handle tighter with every passing second. He took a deep breath as he brought the utensil up to his eye level, studying the edge in horror as images of his father flashed in his mind.

"I need help," he whispered as panic seized him. "I'm listening to an imaginary clown, for Christ's sake! I..."

"_Need to do it. Think of it this way, Jacky...it's a God damn joke out there, all it's missing is a punchline. From how your life has played out...I think you're um, the only...qualified to deliver it._" Jack was shaking his head in an attempt to make the clown's words nonsense, but it didn't help.

A gloved hand gripped his, slowly bringing the knife to the corner of his perfect cheek and, for the first time, Jack didn't fight back. He was aware of the sharp edges tearing into the untouched flesh as it sawed its way up his cheek, but his mind seemed to have shut down on him. There was an echoing laughter that filled the house as the slicing continued, warm blood spilling on to the white tiled floor. The teenager made no sound as withdrew the now bloody steak knife, a gurgled chuckle leaving his stained lips as ripped open the sealed cheek once again.

Jack doubled over in laughter, a clanking sound meeting his ears as the knife fell to the floor, before falling to his knees in his blood. As he knelt there, the sixteen year old couldn't help but feel as if his father had lucked out in the accident.

"Jack?"

His head snapped up to see his grandmother standing in front of him, an expression of terror on her aged face. This sight just caused Jack to cackle harder as he continued to think about his poor excuse of a father.

"He's lucky..." Jack choked out, hardly aware of the spell of dizziness that fell on him from the loss of blood. "If that...fuckin' accident didn't kill him...I would've uh, repaid him for his...services."

Jack struggled to his feet as he watched his grandmother run to the phone, her fingers quickly dialing the number.

"I wasn't the serious one, y'know? It was...him. He needed the um, _smile_." Jeannie had entered the kitchen at that point, a scream leaving her mouth at the sight of her brother. "I would've given it to him...just like he uh, gave me mine. The. Exact. Same. Way. Except...he wouldn't have lived!"

"Jack!" Jeannie was rushing to his side, his arm pushing her away as he fell back to the tile.

"Why so serious, Jeannie?" he muttered as his eyes drifted close.

00000000000000000000000000000000000000

Pain was what greeted him as he woke up, dark eyes fighting the grogginess of the drugs he had been given. If Jack hadn't been staring at his hand, he wouldn't have thought it was moving towards his throbbing cheeks. The feeling of medical tape met his fingertips, and the sixteen year old forced himself to smile through the pain as the memory came back to him. His gaze fell on the sleeping form of Jeannie on the small couch in the room and that of his worried grandmother.

"Who died?" he croaked, a giggle escaping at the price of more pain.

"JJ...Jack," his grandmother began as she shuffled towards her grandson, sitting in the chair next to his bed. "You're going away for a while."

"Why?" his brow furrowed as confusion took over him.

"Something's wrong with you, sweetheart. I always knew your father did more than beat you," Jack stared at her, it was funny anymore. "You'll be going to Metropolis for as long as it takes to make you better."

"Why Metropolis?"

"They have the best staff to deal with children like you,"

His eyes dropped to the worn hospital blanket as his grandmother continued talking, but it all fell on deaf ears. He closed his eyes as panic replaced the pain he was feeling, panic at the idea of leaving Jeannie. How was he supposed to protect her if he was on the other side of the country? He didn't plan for this to happen.

"_Lesson one, Jackie Boy..._" Jack looked around the room for the clown, ignoring his grandmother's concerned look. "_Never make plans. Ever."_

00000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000

He stood there in the airport, his collar turned up and his hat pulled low over his face. A duffle bag and a backpack were slung over his shoulders as he waited to board the plane that would take him to the doctors who would be able to fix him, or so he had heard. Jack glanced out of the corner of his eyes and watched the stocky guard look around the airport; his doctor had ordered a guard to accompany him on his way to Metropolis in case he tried to do anything to himself or the other passengers, apparently he was "unstable". Jack rolled his eyes at that though as he made his way to his assigned seat, allowing the guard to take the window seat.

The sixteen year old closed his eyes and leaned his head back; trying to forget the awkward goodbye he had given his grandmother and Jeannie. It wasn't that he wouldn't miss them because he would, it was because there was a confusion of feelings he held about what he had put them through. And he didn't want them to know that. Jack opened one eye as the seat on his left was taken by a man in a business suit, his fingers drumming nervously on his knee. The teenager had both eyes opened as he stared at the red head next to him, smirking at the glances the man sent his way every so often.

This went on until the plane had taken off and the captain had turned of the fasten seatbelts sign. It was then that Jack decided to have a little bit of fun.

"You look like someone who uh...likes mysteries." Jack was now fully facing the guy, aware that the guard was watching him closely.

"I more of a riddle man, myself actually..." the man corrected, his brown eyes glancing at Jack's scarred cheeks. "But I'll listen to anything that needs an answer."

"I bet you're wondering about my...lovely smile, huh?"

"I don't...mean to be...rude." this man was clearly lacking in self-confidence.

"Wanna know how I got 'em?" Jack's tongues darted out to wet his lips before he continued, not bothering to wait for an answer. "I was in a wreck, a nasty one that killed several people. Among those dead was my parents and sister...you can image my reaction that news. While I didn't die, I was uh, scarred by a slice of metal that had broken free of one of the cars. It...flew through the windshield, straight uh, through my mother's neck...and through the side of um, my face. Leaving me with this wonderful smile."

"I'm...I'm uh...sorry?" the man's eyes darted from side to side as he squirmed in his seat uncomfortably.

Jack just smirked.

000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000

They had arrived in Metropolis a little over an hour ago, and Jack now found himself sitting in the waiting room as the guard checked him into the psychiatric hospital, handcuffs encircling around his wrists. His tongued darted at the corner of his mouth as he foot tapped on the tile, dark eyes darting around the room. A set of doors on the other end of the room opened, revealing a family of three; two parents and a brunette girl no older than eleven year olds.

Jack watched as the family walked passed him, the girl slowing down as her baby blue eyes took in the sixteen year old's appearance. He smirked in anticipation of her reaction to his face, but was surprised when she gave him a smile. A genuine smile.

"Harleen! Hurry up," the father called as he swiftly walked back over to take his daughter's hand, pulling her after him as he shot Jack a disgusted look.

Jack turned to watch the girl leave the waiting room, aiming a wink her way as she looked over her shoulder to give him one more smile. A soft chuckle left his dried lips as the father tugged on the girl's hand once more, causing her head to face forward.

"What have we told you?" her mother's whisper was louder than it should have been. "Don't stare at the people in this place,"

"Not all of them are like your brother." That was when the voices were out of earshot, Jack's attention going back to looking around the area for something interesting.

"C'mon, Napier." He was pulled to his feet by a new guard, his old one leaving the room. "I'm going to take you to meet your doctor and then I'll show you your room,"

Jack was led down a series of corridors before he was brought into a posh office, an older man sitting behind a wooden desk. He looked up as the teenager was brought, sat on the chair across from him, and left alone with the doctor.

"Hello, Jack." He smile gently, but Jack knew it was strained. "I'm Doctor Holt and I'm here to help you..."

"I know why I'm here." Jack interrupted, his dark eyes glaring at the man. "I'm crazy, not stupid."

"Very well," the sixteen year old watched as he scribbled something down. "Why don't we start with you telling me about yourself?"

Jack's tongue darted across his lips as he settled into the clearly used chair, his fingers beating on his thigh as he thought of what to say. His gaze caught the man's quick look over of his face, and Jack fought back a giggle.

"You look nervous, Doc. Is it the scars?" Jack chuckled as he leaned forward, a glint in his eyes as the clown's laughter filled his head. "Wanna know how I got 'em?"

* * *


End file.
